


Words of a Fashion

by Robin_Mask



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, One Shot Collection, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Mask/pseuds/Robin_Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur requires the services of Nina Hopkins, leaving him wondering about her true nature . . . </p><p>(collection of Nina one-shot stories)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Words of a Fashion

# Words of a Fashion

****

“I-I’m sure that I could make do.”

 

“Nonsense! You wouldn’t tell _Shakespeare_ to ‘make do’ with just one act, and _you_ can’t ‘make do’ with just one suit! I don’t tell you how to do your day-job, do I? Don’t tell me how to do mine! You’re not the _only_ artist here, you know.”

 

Arthur drew in a deep breath and tried to keep his apprehension under control. He felt rather exposed in merely his vest-top and a pair of shorts, but he had been assured that it was necessary for measuring and for the perfect fit. It was simply strange to be stood in the middle of what appeared to be a workshop-cum-studio, standing before three tall mirrors, and forced to look at himself in the reflection. He just looked so average. It was hard to believe how a mere outfit would improve that.

 

Well, she came highly recommended, and Ciel Phantomhive himself had used this woman on many an occasion. Still, he wasn’t a noble and he wasn’t used to such finery, this kind of attire seemed to be something that belonged in a romance novel rather than on his person, and – if truth be told – this woman unnerved him greatly. She was not like other women. She was so theatrical and extravagant, she seemed to make even the most trivial event into a huge melodrama, and she was so filled with confidence that it bordered on arrogance. How could a woman walk around with legs bared as she did? Did she not know what effect she had on men?

 

“You men think you can get away with just any old thing,” Nina snapped, whilst she whipped the measuring tape around his waist. “You have no idea about the language that clothes speak! Your accessories are one word, but your outfit is an entire encyclopaedia! Oh, by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be as handsome as any fair maiden or beautiful boy!”

 

Arthur wasn’t sure what he thought about that.

 

The truth was that he simply needed a plain – yet smart – suit in order to talk to a publisher, in the hope that maybe a smart appearance and a good sell would enable him to write full-time. He didn’t want to look like someone he wasn’t. He was just a typical young man, average in every respect, with brown hair and brown eyes and rather thick eyebrows. He wasn’t adorable or pretty or handsome, and he probably never would be. He would be happy if he just looked presentable.

 

“I didn’t realise that clothes have a language,” he said conversationally.

 

“Of course! You have the form-fitting kimonos of Japan, the saris of India, and the kilts of Scotland! Each one will have a dozen or more variations . . . the tartan of a kilt will tell you the family who wears it, the sari will change in style according to religion and region, and the kimono knot will vary according to the _type_ of woman who wears it! That’s not to mention colours and personal preferences.

 

“Red denotes passion and vibrancy, purple spirituality and often designated to those only of the upper classes in _some_ places, for that matter yellow was only ever for the emperor in China! Oh, and then there’s the changing fashions too, corsets and bustles, and not to mention the jewellery and hairstyles used to complement! It’s usually a certain type of woman who would wear a long-necklace with a plunging top, not to mention all sorts of other factors . . . any time you decide on an outfit you are declaring to the world your mood, class, income, and moral value! Now, what do you think that _I’m_ saying with _this_?”

 

Arthur looked at Nina and gave a blush. There was no denying how stunning she was, but he didn’t honestly know _what_ she was trying to say by wearing what she did, and he also knew that a gentleman couldn’t say exactly what he was thinking. She wore a very short pair of shorts, that would have been much better on a child, and they exposed almost the entire length of her leg . . . pale white skin was clearly on show, with her firm and supple limbs catching his eye any time that she moved. She also wore a long-sleeved top that was cut low enough to reveal her cleavage, which was quite impressive and hard to avoid gazing upon. She didn’t appear like a lady at all, but she was so highly recommended and she looked . . . well . . . amazing.

 

“I – er – wouldn’t rightly know,” Arthur choked.

 

“Is that right? Well, men don’t listen very well at the best of times,” Nina said with a chuckle. “Mr Stiff is the worst, telling me to avoid red! If you want to know what _my_ outfit says then just listen carefully, okay? I’m going to measure your inseam.”

 

“You are? Well, I suppose –”

 

He jumped as he felt the cold hand at his ankle, as beautifully manicured fingers trailed slowly up his leg . . . the touch felt far too slow and kindly for it to be a usual measuring, but then a woman had never measured him before. It was hard not to blush. It was hard not to swallow hard as the hard came ever and ever upwards, and soon enough he felt something that he probably oughtn’t have felt.

 

“ _Oh_ -! I think I get the massage -! I mean _message_!”

 

“Good. This also measures up very well.”

 

“I – I’m glad.”


	2. Shrouded in Grief

# Shrouded in Grief

 

“Dress delivery!”

 

Nina threw open the door. It felt like the worst possible job to be commissioned; the room was old and musty, so that the air was difficult to breathe and the dust seemed to collect on every surface, and these kinds of places often led to disasters in fashion. There was no greater sin than for soft satin to smell stale, or for dust to collect on the hem so that the overall hue was thrown off. Fashion was art and should be treated as such! No dress should ever have to be hidden out of sight!

 

She carried the garment over one shoulder, which was an awkward position and yet the most convenient. True, it may have knocked her curly ponytail out of alignment, but it allowed her to carry it in her left hand and left her right hand free to use as she wished. It was a blessing, for at that moment she felt a need to wipe her glasses quickly against her trouser leg, simply because the sheer dust in the air made her feel dirty just standing there. There was a long moment when she felt tempted to just turn around and leave at once, but she couldn’t do that for one reason alone: professional pride. Rachel was owed a dress and she would get a dress. It was what was right.

 

“It’s rude to leave a lady waiting!”

 

Nina kicked the door closed with a high-heeled boot. It was difficult not to pout when it sent a wave of dust falling down upon her, which gave her dark hair the unfortunate effect of looking somewhat grey, but – at least – the dress was wrapped up in a very well-made garment-bag, which meant Rachel would still be able to wear it with pride. She had to wonder how long this establishment had been used though, because it seemed old enough to have gathered great history, but yet dirty enough to have clearly not have been in use for some time . . . such contradictions!

 

“My, what do we have here?”

 

“Nina Hopkins!” She struck a pose with her fingers in a V-sign against her head. “I’m looking for the hot, young lady who commissioned this dress! Come to think of it, I’d also say I’m looking for the owner of that voice! If you come on out, I’ll fit this dress for your wife for free! I’m a great tailor, but I’m not so great as to be able to work without looking anyone in the eye . . . say, why is an earl in a place like this?”

 

“You’re talkative,” said the voice from nowhere. “It’s an admirable trait on one so young; communication is a gift so often taken for granted, but the living so often forget that more is said in death than in life. You shan’t hear a word as you speak.”

 

“Do you often speak in riddles like that?”

 

“When I don’t talk in tongues.”

 

It was then that Nina truly looked about the room. This was clearly an undertaker’s parlour, albeit she probably should have noticed that upon entry. She had been in such a rush to get the dress delivered on time that she hadn’t even looked at the sign on entering, assuming there had even been a sign, and suddenly she felt a cold wave of dread strike through her. This wasn’t what she had expected at all.

 

There were coffins all about the room, but only three were opened and sat central amongst the rest. She noted that one seemed to be the size of a child, whilst the other two – on either side – were clearly for a pair of adults, and all around the coffins were an array of red flowers and scattered belongings. There was a toy from a famous company in the child’s coffin, a few photos of a woman in the one to the right, and a couple of pieces of jewellery in the one to the left. It was clear either there were no bodies or that the remains of the body had yet to arrive, whilst clearly someone grieved or the owner of the establishment simply wanted to show some respect by grieving on their behalf. What had happened here?

 

In a far corner of the room a man seemed to appear, almost as if from nowhere. He struck Nina as both handsome and horrifying, with his long grey hair covering his eyes and making her wonder where his eyes fell. It wasn’t that she minded the idea of his gaze upon her cleavage or legs, which were – she admitted – rather on show, but she hated the idea of not knowing. She liked to know what manner of man she spoke with as she spoke with them. She had no way of knowing if he was professional or perverted, a friendly face or a stony stare, and yet something told her it didn’t really matter. There was bad news coming . . . very bad news.

 

“There are some who don’t talk at all,” he said.

 

It seemed that his gaze fell upon the empty coffins. Nina held back a shudder and thought back to a penny dreadful she read a few weeks or so back, where a body had never been found for a young man that had died, and she was certain that he had been found years later to wreak havoc on his descendants. A client once commissioned a dress for a body that didn’t actually exist either, for the body had been destroyed on impact by the train that struck it. There were times when an absence of a body brought about more questions than a corpse could . . .

 

“What happened to them?”

 

“Hmm? Life happened to them,” the man said. “I suppose it was life that led them to this. Death relies solely on life, does it not? We die unless we live and we cannot live without the prospect of death . . . so often I fear myself to be something undead . . . does my lady ever feel neither one thing or another? It is so easy to look into an empty coffin and imagine oneself in its depths.”

 

“Rachel Phantomhive commissioned me to create her a dress. I was supposed to be called in for a fitting, but I received a telegram about an accident and a fire and something about how I would find her . . . here.”

 

“If you believe in the soul, you will find her anywhere.”

 

“I can’t believe she’s gone!”

 

Nina walked over to the coffin where the photographs lay. There was one that looked like a daguerreotype, which she had though had fallen out of fashion a few decades ago, but it felt almost right that something so old should lie side-by-side with something so recent. This woman had been taken before her time, and so time no longer applied to her. Nina admired the pictures for the art that they were, as she imagined how this woman would have looked draped in the living-art of fashion.

 

This woman looked radiant in the photograph. Rachel clearly had light-coloured locks and large eyes, which may have been blue or green judging by the shade, and there was something almost childlike and innocent in her expression. She seemed like the kind of woman uncaring of social mores, one who would speak her mind and act as she wanted, and she seemed to have infinite love and life behind those eyes . . . eyes that would never see again, never look again . . . Nina wondered how she would look draped in white or shrouded in satin or what styles she would like. It was always a shame to die young, for women were always so much more beautiful young! She could have inspired epic novels or works of great art! She could have done so much!

 

“I would gladly take the dress, if you wish,” said the man.

 

“I think that would be best,” replied Nina. “Don’t worry about the extra payments; it’s my final gift to her. Every lady has the right to look beautiful especially for life’s greatest rites, and I wouldn’t want to deny her now.”

 

“That is very kind of you, Miss Hopkins. It is an honour, I’m sure.”

 

“I hope she finds peace, wherever she may be.”

 

“She will. She will . . .”


	3. Cut from the Same Cloth

** Cut from the Same Cloth **

****

“N-No! Not the glasses!”

 

Mey-Rin clutched the sides of her glasses defensively. There was a clear hint of fear to her hazel eyes, which shone quite beautifully from behind the rather opaque glass, and that was the crime, wasn’t it? It wasn’t wrong that they shimmered with unshed tears, no! The only thing was wrong was that they were _hidden_ behind such an obtrusive accessory! If only the young maid would exchange them for a more fashionable pair, something that would accentuate her features!

 

Nina gave a small pout and raised a finger to press to her lips, as she crossed her other arm about her waist. She gave the matter some considerable thought, because – after all – she would have to deal with Mr Stiff should she upset the maid any further, plus there wasn’t any beauty in suffering. She cocked her head to the side and let a low sigh escape her painted lips, before she clapped her hands together and gave a little jump which left her leg up in mid-air, as she gave a little twirl. There was always something to be made of nothing! If she couldn’t rid the girl of her glasses, then she’d just have to work _around_ the glasses! She’d emphasise other features!

 

There was a lot to be said for plunging cuts and form-fitting gowns! Nina remembered well how the maid had enjoyed wearing skirts and more feminine clothing, which was something that she could definitely work with, and it’d definitely show off her finer points! If she couldn’t show off those eyes, she would have to show off those curves instead! It was only a shame that Nina could only do her finest work during the holidays, but at least the nobles and upper-classes let loose at _some_ point! There was no doubt her muse would die in such otherwise sterile circumstances!

 

“This is the holiday for a whole new you,” said Nina.

 

“P-perhaps,” replied Mey-Rin, “but the master gave me these glasses! They – they were my first real gift and I – I feel incomplete without them! It would be disrespectful to throw away such a thoughtful gift!”

 

“We wouldn’t have to throw them away! We just would have replaced them with something _fresher_ , something newer! In any case, never fear, I love a good challenge! It’s Halloween! This is the time of year to be creative and to be the _real_ you! The question is who _you_ really are? Hmm? You can tell little, old me!”

 

“I-I’m sure any old costume will do just fine.”

 

“Nonsense! It needs to be _you_!”

 

Nina pulled out a tape-measure from the pocket of her waistcoat, at which point she yanked both ends and held it before her like a grand display, before she spun and whipped the servant’s floor with it in a display of power. There was a twinkle in her eye as she observed Mey-Rin with a detached gaze, able to work out an approximate of her sizing without even touching, but it never hurt to be certain of these things! It was a part of professional pride to be certain, after all!

 

“I – I don’t know,” confessed Mey-Rin.

 

There was a brief moment of silence in the sparse room. Ciel had commissioned Nina to create suitable costumes for his servants for the upcoming ball, as such she had a duty to create something that was both beautiful and symbolic of the young maid’s personality, but the maid was just so unresponsive! Everyone had dreams, didn’t they? There was always someone or something that a person wanted to be above all else, perhaps even just idle curiosities of what they could have been . . .

 

It was true that in her time she had seen many people, just as she had been commissioned many costumes and made many outfits, and so very little surprised her anymore. The holidays were often a time for people to wear what they otherwise wouldn’t, but usually those outfits were so _formal_! Yes, people enjoyed dressing up and looking fancy, because it was a chance to indulge in the sin of vanity that they would otherwise be mocked or judged, especially when there was so little occasion to dress in such formalwear, but during Halloween -! It was a chance to go one step further! It was a chance to dress in absolutely any way and in any style!

 

“I – I would only need to wear it once,” said Mey-Rin.

 

“All the more reason to make it special! You wouldn’t expect a fine lady to make do with rags on her wedding day, would you? It is the fact that is simply a day that _makes_ it so special, because what other chance do we have to wear such unusual or beautiful garments? It is unusual to be asked to dress servants for such a party, I’ll admit, but surely that makes you wish to ask for the stars? You can have anything you want! How often do you get to have anything and everything?”

 

“I – I suppose,” she confessed. “Mr Sebastian likes cats, so maybe that would make for a pleasant surprise? I think that the master dislikes cats, though, so maybe that’s a silly idea . . . I think Mr Bard wishes to go as something scary. Is scary better?”

 

“We can combine scary and feline! It’ll be great!”

 

“Are – are you sure?”

 

In a split second Nina whipped out her measuring tape. It took only a few seconds to get the measurements that she needed, although it was made frustratingly difficult by the young maid’s fidgeting and squirming. Nina would be the first to admit that a grope here and there wasn’t _strictly_ necessary, but surely the girl knew better than to move so wildly during a fitting? It seemed she had put on a little weight too. Nina forgave her the sin, simply as she was a little underweight during her last fitting, so this time she appeared more healthy and desirable! Lots more curves to show!

 

“Of course! It’ll look spectacular!”

 

“I – I just – I don’t wish to attract too much attention.”

 

“That’s the magic of a costume! The shy and restrained may hide their face behind a mask, much like the _Carnevale di Venezia,_ so that they may be free and uninhibited by their usual social mores! It’s a night to act in any way one wishes! They can’t be held accountable behind such a beauteous mask, one that adorns their face and yet hides their very soul! Such debaucheries that fine ladies commit -! It’d be enough to make you blush, if you’re not the sort to seek it out!

 

“Those that are confined to prudish modesty throughout the year can take this day to show off their figures, they can finally indulge in vanity! They can become whatever they so wish and enjoy the feeling of all eyes on them! It’s like _Twelfth Night_! The fools can be kings and the kings can be fools! You can attract all the attention you like, but not a single soul will know it’s you, at least not with the costume that _I_ have in mind! You can act the wallflower or bloom out on the ballroom floor! Who can judge you but your seamstress herself? It’ll just be our little secret! Now, let’s talk about colours, shall we? I’m thinking a classical black.”

 

Nina forced Mey-Rin to give a twirl. The young maid looked beautiful indeed, with her hair loose and down, along with her figure clad only in a basic white under-dress and free from the restraints of her uniform. Nina appreciated the sight both as a woman and as an artist, because this was the walking advertisement for her wares! This was the model that would display her living art! Mey-Rin would breathe and the dress would come alive. Mey-Rin would move and the dress would gain a soul!

 

“No, we need something _lively_! Red . . . no . . . pink!”

“Isn’t that more Miss Elizabeth’s colour?”

“Not anymore!”

 


End file.
